


lost not filthy

by tigerbox



Category: EXO (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: EXO - Freeform, F/M, Red Velvet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerbox/pseuds/tigerbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>irene and lay have a tradition that never seems to advance into a relationship. irene contemplates why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost not filthy

It never hails in Seoul, but this dawn it pelts. Irene blinks in unison to the sound of the chunks of frozen rain slamming into the sliding window, slated at a severe angle. While to others the sound of a patter could be soothing, it makes Irene anything but, and she anxiously bites her nails, chewing them off until they become ragged and uneven to touch. Besides her, he stays still, leaning against the vinyl headboard, eyes wide.

She has a type. It's the moment when one of them is supposed to say or do something first, but neither rises to the occasion. She waits for him to pull out a cigarette and smoke it in a lazy haste, but he's not a smoker either. So they remain immobile in an awkward post-coital tradition, just like how it's been the time and time before. The pattern of the hail changes for a second, almost joyful and his eyes flutter in confusion, distilled by the change, and she wonders if he's going to say anything then: but he doesn't.

She looks around the room. They're both new money and filthy rich, but their fame affords them the hidden guest bedroom of a friend of a friend who lives in the sector of town where no one cares to look. The carpet is musty and the sheets on the bed are an off white unpleasant color, reeking of the people who've rumpled around there many times before them. There's not a single trademark of her in the room, nothing to define her existence in this world and he who comes with it. She stops gnawing at her thumbnail and gives him a good stare, following the line of his bare clavicle up to the bridge of his high nose. In a perfect world, Lay would come to terms with what they were doing, throw a sweat drenched, fit arm over her shoulder and bring her close to her side and murmur something sweet yet sexy, granting her permission to inhale that cinnamon aroma that situated itself into the pores of his skin.

But this was Yixing who she calls Lay and she was Joohyun who he calls Irene. They never feel close enough to establish themselves anything more personal.

The hail stops around five when the trash collectors back up in to the street noisily and they watch the scene unfold through the curtains below. Unexpectedly, Irene leans over and gives Lay a peck on his temple, wondering if he's going to ask her to cuddle before the sun dares to rise. Instead he mumbles a thanks, finally closing his eyes, the familiar sight of his clavicle bones lifting and falling becoming ever so distant.


End file.
